Letters From The Past
by controlled climb
Summary: “Some things in the past…” Fred placed the leather bag into the box carefully, making sure that it was exactly how it had been before. “Should stay in the past.” - Inspired by "Handbag" by Ruth Fainlight.


**Written for the "Poetry For Prompt" Challenge.**

**& By the way, I'm not very... with it when it comes to capitalizations with words like "Mum" and "Dad" so because of that, I've always capitalized. So I might be a bit off - sorry!**

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"Handbag" by Ruth Fainlight

_My mother's old leather handbag,_

_crowded with letters she carried_

_all through the war. The smell_

_of my mother's handbag: mints_

_and lipstick and Coty powder._

_The look of those letters, softened_

_and worn at the edges, opened,_

_read, and refolded so often._

_Letters from my father. Odour_

_of leather and powder, which ever_

_since then has meant womanliness,_

_and love, and anguish, and war._

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Roxanne laughed, pulling her elder brother, Fred, through the house happily. She paused at the end of the corridor, flashing a grin over her shoulder. Fred's eyes stared back at her, his mouth in a tight line as he fought to suppress a smile. It was a game they had played since childhood. Roxanne was more boisterous of the two, much to their father's despair, and had taken to chasing her brother around the house a lot when she was younger. Somewhere along the line Fred had stopped minding, and Roxanne had started dragging him around the house, showing him all her 'secret places.'

"Roxie," Fred sighed, removing his hand from hers to rub his temples. Her grin slipped away slowly, and he continued quickly, not liking to see his sister upset. "It's just… we've been doing this for years."

"But I've found something _new_, Fred," Roxanne protested. Still sensing his hesitation, she added. "I promise you'll be interested, but I suppose… if you really don't want to…"

"Don't be daft," Fred muttered, knowing what she was trying to do, and knowing that he'd probably end up trailing behind her anyway. Roxanne had the whole family wrapped around her finger, and she knew it. It wasn't as if she was the youngest of the Weasley family, because she definitely wasn't. He thought that it was more to do with the fact that she reminded them of his late uncle, something that he had never been able to do.

"You're going to come with me, right?" Roxanne asked, just for the sake of playing along. She always knew that Fred would follow her, but sometimes, just for a bit of fun, she liked to give him the benefit of doubt.

"Don't I always?" Fred replied, causing a smirk to cross Roxanne's features. She stepped aside, bowing slightly, and letting him step in front of her. Taking the bobby pin she was holding out to him, Fred started picking at the lock on the door. Being underage was a hassle at times, and this was one of those times. With a final click, the door flung open, a swarm of dust rising to greet the two. He peered at the ladder with great annoyance, before gripping at the rungs and beginning to pull himself up.

The two had found the entrance to the attic a few years ago, and Roxanne never tired of searching through the dusty boxes. Both of their parents tended to close up about their pasts - particularly about the war. Angelina and George did tell them things - believing that they deserved to know - but they said the bare minimal, leaving a lot of guess work for the two. Roxanne didn't really mind though, and it gave her a valid excuse to be snooping through her parents possessions.

"Are you up?" Roxanne hissed, tapping her foot impatiently. She had never been caught by her parents before, and didn't intend on it ever happening. She was fairly certain that they wouldn't be happy with her sneaking up to the attic.

"Yeah," Fred called back, pulling himself up and sprawling across the wooden floor. He turned around, waiting for his sister to come, knowing that she would want a hand up at the final rung. He was right, and only a few moments later Roxanne had waved her hand in front of his face, silently demanding that he take it. After hauling her so that she was seated beside him, he looked down at the hole doubtfully. "You closed the door, didn't you?"

"Of course I did!"

"Then why is it _light_?" He couldn't figure out how on earth he could see his sister's face as clear as day. The only light source he knew of was the light from below. That is, until Roxanne rolled her eyes, pointing out a single lamp in the very corner of the room.

"I brought it up last time I was here," Roxanne said, answering his unasked question. She stood, briskly brushing down her skirt as she ventured away from the ladder and towards the lamp.

Fred sighed, but followed her anyway. He sat quietly beside her as she rummaged through a series of boxes, before finally speaking. "What are you looking for?"

She didn't answer though, and continued to wordlessly place each box to the side. It felt like several minutes had passed before she let out a happy exclamation, turning to face Fred with a gleeful smile on her face.

"Found it," she said breathlessly, pushing a box that looked just like the rest in between them. Roxanne crossed her legs, making herself comfortable, before raising her hands to peel the lid off. "Look, Fred, look."

He did as she asked, propping himself on his knees, and peering inside the box. Much to his disappoint, all that could be seen was an old, brown, tattered bag. He frowned involuntarily, and collapsed onto his backside once more.

Roxanne wasn't fazed by his reaction though, and she all but jumped into the box, carefully lifting the bag from it.

"Just look inside the bag, Fred," she told him, thrusting it towards him, and throwing the empty box to the side.

Fred, not knowing what else to do, complied, and glanced into the bag, not really caring about whatever it was that had made his sister so excited. She was excited easily, and well known for creating mountains out of molehills. Over time, he had realized that something that she claimed was "The worst thing to ever happen to her," could very well mean that she had just broken a nail, or something just as pitiful.

"Wh-what are these, Roxie?" He needn't have asked though. He knew exactly what they were. Letters. Old letters. Letters from the past. Letters that could answer every question that their parents never would. It seemed to good to be true. They could explain everything about their family history – about what happened during the war. He fingered the brown parchment gently, almost afraid that it would fall to pieces at his touch. Suddenly he pulled back. This was insane. It was an invasion of privacy. But he couldn't help himself, and he lifted his eyes to meet Roxanne's.

"They're from Uncle Fred," she said quietly. "To Mum. One was left in his will, I reckon."

"You've read them?"

"I did when I found them. Curiosity and all…" Roxanne trailed off. She watched for a moment as Fred ran his fingers over the edge of the collection of parchment. She could see his hesitation, and she hated it. "They were in love."

"What about Dad?"

"I guess Mum and Dad were just good friends at the time," she shrugged. "Do you think that's why they never talk about him?"

Fred thought carefully about her question before answering it. Was that the reason? Was his Mum having a scandalous love affair with her boyfriend's twin, and now husband, before the war and now feeling guilty because he had died? Did Dad feel bad about marrying his late twin's girl?

"Maybe…" Fred answered slowly, gathering his thoughts. "Maybe it just hurts to lose someone you love."

"But Mum and Dad, they're married now!" Roxanne protested.

"I'm aware of that, thanks," he retorted, rolling his eyes.

"- And Uncle Fred and Mum were in love!"

"Roxie," Fred said seriously, his eyes scanning over the scribbled writing on the parchment for the first time. "Uncle Fred died. He wanted Mum to happy. That's why she married Dad."

"And what if Uncle had survived?"

"Then we wouldn't be here. It's as simply as that."

"No, it's not. What if Mum is just replacing Uncle with Dad?"

Fred glared at his younger sister over the parchment pieces. He couldn't remember a time when she had been so persistent. Did girls always think that much? He decided that they must, and sighed inwardly.

"I think that Mum and Dad love each other, and that that's the end of it. Honestly, Roxie, it's all in the past now," he said defiantly, placing the letters into the handbag. "I don't think we should look up here any more."

"What? Why?" She looked more upset about the idea of not being allowed to scavenge around the attic than she did about the idea of Angelina and Fred being in love, then Angelina marrying George.

"Some things in the past…" Fred placed the leather bag into the box carefully, making sure that it was exactly how it had been before. "Should stay in the past."

"I think you're being stupid."

"I think you're being rude."

"I think you're being ridiculous."

"I think you're being pathetic."

"I think you're be-" Roxanne stopped midsentence. "What are you doing?"

Fred just glared at his sister, placing the final box back into its original position. He was making his way back to the ladder, not planning on looking back. He had had happy memories in that attic. But sad and morbid memories, and not his own, were stored there. They were his parent's, and when they wanted to, they would show him. But for now, he was quite happy with not knowing the past. His parents had never been comfortable when people mentioned his deceased uncle, and he had never brought the subject up. He had known that his Dad had a close connection with his twin, and that his Mum had been a good friend. It had never occurred to him that there might be more to the story.

"Nothing happened, Roxanne," Fred said, breaking his promise to himself and looking back as his fingers searched for the first rung. "We shouldn't do this."

"Be curious about history, you mean?"

"Not when it's personal," Fred retorted. He softened, seeing his sister's upset look. "It's history. Not important any more. Let's go."

Roxanne stood, making her way slowly and hesitantly towards Fred. She knew that he was right. She knew that it wasn't healthy to be obsessed with a time that you weren't even alive in. She knew that she was going against all her morals by reading those private letters. But most importantly, she knew that she still wanted to know.

"Roxanne. Ask Mum about him later, alright?" Fred's voice was soft as he spoke, and before she had time to look at his face, he had disappeared down the ladder.

"She won't tell…" Roxanne whispered in reply, knowing that he couldn't hear her. She looked around the attic, her eyes scanning every corner that she had slowly memorized over the years. Something told her that she wouldn't be returning to the attic any time soon, and she made her way towards the lamp that sat in the corner. Carrying it towards the ladder, she lifted it so that it was level with her face. And then she blew, leaving history to be engulfed in darkness, never to be disturbed again.


End file.
